


Dust to Dust

by Arisprite



Series: Little Wishes [6]
Category: xxxHoLic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki looked up from where he’d stopped cleaning, and saw a person approaching the yard, through the side, though he’d always told him not to. </p>
<p>Nearly transparent, hanging on to this realm for a breath longer than he was supposed to, Doumeki looked nearly the same as he had when they were young together; before Watanuki had stopped and Doumeki hadn’t. The last time he’d seen him in life, he’d been white haired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust to Dust

It was a good day to clean the storeroom. It was early in March. The sun was shining, and Watanuki could feel an antsiness in his bones that only a good deep scrubbing of something would ease. 

He sent away Mokona to play with Maru and Moro, and bid them watch the door. He didn’t really feel like taking customers today - today he wanted to focus on this. They went, glancing back at him, but he didn’t ask them to help. No need, Watanuki could do it. 

He dragged it all out into the yard, and the air was a bit too cold until he got moving. Watanuki wore a simple hakama, and tied up the sleeves, and his hair and an apron around his waist. Everything needed to be cleaned, and put back in the shelf it belonged on - after many long decades, he’d created a decent organization system, but he swore the items got up on their own, and dust… the dust just gathered quicker than was possible, like something in it was drawn to the magic. 

Dust was like that, he supposed. Irritating. Always around, no matter how much you brushed it away, and drawn to the most important, the most powerful things. It made him sneeze, and if it floated wrong, it could make him cry. It tasted horrible, and was full of tingling particles of humans, and animals, and things dead and alive. Watanuki _needed_ to get all of these things clean of the stuff. To shake off its presence, like everything else. 

Then again, through the ages, dust was an everyday fact of life. The most minute particle that any human could touch or experience. It pervaded the smallest spaces, and floated across wide reaches of air. It marked the boundary between the seen and the unseen.

In the Christian tradition, man came from the dust of the earth, from the smallest bits of stardust. Dust was dry, and dead, yet humans were created out of it. Dust could connote races, and one pulling ahead of the pursuers, causing them to ‘eat dust’. Dust storms in China were drying up the lakes. In his own country, guests for a formal tea ceremony will walk through the roji, a dew filled garden to rid them of the dust of everyday life. Dust was a part of every culture, and every history. Dust _was_ life. 

Why then, did it look so much like ashes?

Shaking his head, confused but full of dread, Watanuki looked up from where he’d stopped cleaning, and saw a person approaching the yard, through the side, though he’d always told him not to. 

Nearly transparent, hanging on to this realm for a breath longer than he was supposed to, Doumeki looked nearly the same as he had when they were young together; before Watanuki had stopped and Doumeki hadn’t. The last time he’d seen him in life, he’d been white haired, stooped yet still tall, with shaking hands around his tea cup. Doumeki had looked sideways at him, through small eyes now hidden by his own pair of two lensed glasses, and Watanuki had felt a shooting fear. Now that fear was come to pass. 

Standing, and brushing the dust from his hands, Watanuki took a step closer to his old, old friend, fighting to keep his old glare. Doumeki stood before him, straight and tall and barely there. 

“I thought I always told you to come through the front?” Watanuki nearly snapped, but his voice was far too soft. Too reverent and pained. 

Doumeki looked at him, his expression as flat as always, but Watanuki could feel his fondness. 

“I knew you were back here,” he said, as if that explained anything. Watanuki pouted and folded his arms. 

“You just like getting on my nerves,” he said, keeping his voice petulant. If it wasn’t, he didn’t know what he’d sound like. 

“Mm,” Doumeki said. Now would come the part where Doumeki would ask for food or drink, but he wouldn’t today. Nor ever again. Watanuki’s glare faltered, before he hitched it up again. 

“I don’t know why I put up with you, honestly. The rest of your family is _much_ easier to deal with. Except for that grandson of yours. He’s a menace. Worse than you.” 

Doumeki huffed, his version of a chuckle, and came a bit closer. It didn’t make his features any clearer, even though Watanuki hadn’t really needed glasses for almost a century. 

“You have Sayaka, though.” Doumeki referred to the great grandchild, a boy in his early teens who loved to listen to his stories and most of all, eat his food. 

“That boy is just like you. But at least he’s polite. Calls me Watanuki-san and _thanks_ me for the food.” 

“He’ll do well here. He has his ancestor’s talents at magic.” 

Watanuki snorted. “It only took Haruka-san six generations to imbue someone in his family with a little magic. Your grandchildren are completely hopeless, and you’d think Kohane-chan’s powers would be a little more prevalent, but no. Not that I blame her! It’s probably your blood,” Watanuki pouted. 

“I’m sure she’d be glad to know that,” Doumeki said, thumbing his wedding ring, still on his finger. Watanuki looked at it, and then up to Doumeki’s face. 

“Doumeki,” he said, quieter. “Why are you here?” 

Doumeki took a breath he didn’t need, and reached forward to brush fingers he could only feel as a being of magic himself, and barely at that, along Watanuki’s cheek. 

“Wanted to see you. One last time.” 

“Haruka-san is a dear friend, dead these many years,” Watanuki said softly, hopefully. Doumeki shook his head. 

“You said it yourself. Haruka’s dream walking skipped many generations, myself included. I cannot meet you in dreams. I can’t meet you again, after this.” 

“How did you manage it this time?” Watanuki asked, pushing away a tightness in his chest. Doumeki shrugged. 

“Made a wish.” 

Watanuki half laughed, pained. “I didn’t-” 

“Didn’t say you granted it.” 

Watanuki’s face collapsed a little, and he took a breath to steady himself. “She still has a little power then? Tell her hello.” 

Doumeki nodded. Took another breath. Moved his fingers from Watanuki’s cheek, to thread through his hair. 

“So you came to say goodbye, then?” Watanuki said, lightly, trying to ignore Doumeki’s hand, so unlike a human touch, memorizing the texture of his hair, his skin. Doumeki looked like a man who’d wanted to do this forever, so Watanuki didn’t stop him. He understood. He knew. 

“Mm,” Doumeki said, dropping his fingers. Watanuki missed his touch for one aching moment, before his equilibrium was restored. Watanuki opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them. He hadn’t really felt much, these past years, but knowing… that this was the last time he’d ever see this dumb idiot… 

Watanuki had to laugh, or he’d cry. “Would you believe, I’m actually going to miss you?” he said, voice still light, a slight crack breaking the word ‘miss’. He smiled. “Who am I going to cook for?” 

Doumeki’s face was showing an expression, and emotion, and damn him, Watanuki couldn’t read it. 

“There are so many who will eat your cooking, Watanuki.” Doumeki’s family, and Kohane-chan’s. Himawari’s children and grandchildren drop by. Spirit friends, and wishers, and people dragged in by damnable hitsuzen. 

Watanuki shook his head. “Not the same.” He took a breath. “You were the _rudest_ , hungriest, most… annoying… person I ever fed.” He’d tried to fill in those gaps, but nothing would come. Watanuki took another breath. He was in control, he was the shopkeeper, but he was also losing one of his oldest friends. It hurt like nothing had hurt for a while. 

“When do you go on?” Watanuki asked, after a long moment of just looking at him. Doumeki shrugged one shoulder. 

“I don’t think I have much longer.” 

He was looking thinner, if that made sense. More faded. Watanuki pressed his hand to his chest, and there was no heartbeat. He met Doumeki’s eyes again. 

“I don’t wish you to stay, but I don’t want you to go.” The words were simple, but heartfelt. This time, Doumeki closed his eyes. 

“The dead don’t return. You know that better than anyone.” 

“That’s why I didn’t wish it, idiot,” Watanuki said, flicking his forehead. There was still enough substance, that it hit something, though it didn’t really feel like skin. Watanuki didn’t care. He wanted to feel him, before he disappeared. He jerked forward, and put his arms around Doumeki, pulling him into a tight hug. Doumeki reciprocated, squeezing him tight, and Watanuki felt a sudden anguish that they hadn’t really done this in life. Doumeki was enveloping and broad and almost squishy, and it would have been so much better in life with a heartbeat under his cheek, and warmth to surround him. 

He pulled back, but Doumeki tightened his arms, leaning forward over him. He pressed a kiss on his forehead, and that more than anything let two tears fall free from his wet eyes. He closed them, and imagined the lips were warm, and this wasn’t the last time he’d ever feel them. Then he opened his eyes again, and scowled, pretending to wipe away the feeling. 

“You’re gonna give me cooties, you moron. Slobbering all over me,” he said, in a shaky voice. 

Doumeki shook his head. “What are you, nine?” he asked, and Watanuki laughed. 

“Far from it. You were the one with white hair, though.” 

Doumeki half smiled, touching the top of his head. “You are ridiculous.” 

Watanuki watched him for a moment, drinking him in, even this half faded image of him was more than he would see… for the rest of his long, long life. 

“Doumeki, I-” he caught himself. He didn’t know what he was planning on saying. ‘I love you’? ‘I know you loved me’? There was no point. Doumeki had chosen to never say that, not to him, anyway. He was certain that Doumeki had loved Kohane-chan just as much as he, after a lifetime together. Watanuki had made his own choices as well. Doumeki died with the two of them at peace. 

“... I hope I see you again.” 

Doumeki smirked, and poked his face. 

“Maybe if you’d grow old like a normal person, someday.” 

Watanuki nodded. “Someday,” he echoed. 

Doumeki smiled at him, a true one, and then looked to the side. A look of displeasure covered his face.

“It’s time to go,” Watanuki said, smiling as well. Doumeki frowned, and then softened. 

“It is.” 

They’d already hugged, memorized the feel of each other in the only way they could. There was nothing more to be said, save for,

“Goodbye.” Doumeki’s voice was soft. Calm. Loving. Watanuki stepped back, with the same emotions clogging his throat. 

“I’ll see you someday.” 

Doumeki nodded, and flashed him another smile, before disappearing, gently like mist dissipating.

Watanuki breathed in and out, and turned back to cleaning, before he realized that he’d had that stupid head scarf on his head the whole time! That bastard hadn’t said a thing!

 

Later on, Doumeki’s family brought him some of Doumeki’s ashes, in a small urn for him to set up a family shrine. He was strange uncle to some of them, and they considered him family. Watanuki was touched, and took it, preparing the shrine with care and far more touches of magic than were really needed. Kohane knelt before it first, and Watanuki knelt beside her after she was done. 

Inside the urn was Doumeki’s ashes. Watanuki had already said his goodbyes, but before he could get up and leave Kohane to her husband, she took his hand. 

“You know, the christian’s say, ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ when people die. I don’t think I ever quite understood it. If dust it where we came from, why would we ever want to go back?” Kohane’s voice was tremulous, less with emotion and more with age, but Watanuki still took her hand. 

“He’d never settle for plain old dust, you know,” he said, stroking her fine bones, and finer wrinkles. She was old too. It was strange to remember. “He’s up there in the star dust, so he can watch and protect you, and his family.” 

Kohane’s eyes twinkled. “That’s not what Shinto priests believe.” 

Watanuki laughed and shook his head. “Since when does Doumeki do anything that’s expected?” 

Kohane hummed, agreeing, and put her head on his shoulder. “You know,” she finally said. “If he’s looking after everyone, he’s got an eye on you too, Kimihiro-kun.” 

Watanuki smiled and kissed her cheek. He wrapped an arm around her, love, sadness and warmth all warring in his heart. He supposed that was what life was.

**Author's Note:**

> Written during work for the prompt word: Dust


End file.
